Reflections on A Train from Java

Bill Guerin*

Needing to return to Jakarta from Central Java, I opted for the train.
In a single journey from Semarang to Jakarta, I experienced an insight
into where real problems may lie ahead for Indonesia's upper classes
and elite.

By using what I saw as analogies to what I believe I already know, I
drew some conclusions on a root problem for this infant democracy.

The 'CNN syndrome', which loosely translates into ' if it is bad, show
it', has ensured that most images of trains in Indonesia shown to the
outside world are of super-economy class carriages with people crammed
in the carriages and hanging from the roofs. Those of us who live here
are aware that there are also extremely high class and professionally
run services as well, like the Argo Lawu, Argo Bromo, and several others.
These are fast, well furbished, generally punctual, and usually clean
and safe.

I wanted to return on the Argo Bromo in an executive class seat.
Despite arriving at Semarang main line station four hours before the
scheduled departure, I was told it was 'fully booked'. If this were true, it
would not have been surprising, as this daily service, Indonesia's pride
and joy, is generally oversubscribed and over-booked.

However, the analogies begin with redefining the words 'fully booked',
Indonesian version. Observing my predicament, the ticket touts
explained that there were always tickets. OK, the tout explains that I pay, to another locket where his friend is, the official rate, and then the
same amount (sic) to him for arranging it. However, absolutely no tickets
available, so I tried for a seat on either of two business/executive
class trains that would leave in the next two hours. "Full up' was the
refrain from the official lockets, 'not full up' was the answering aria
from the touts.

After getting my ticket for business class, stamped with a seat number,
on the 'fully booked' train, and paying a modest fee to the tout, I
boarded the train. Unsurprisingly, someone was in the seat allocated on my ticket. This was not a problem because, as usual in Indonesia, the
opportunist just politely moved away, without the slightest confrontation.

As the carriage began to fill up, I would soon learn just what 'fully
booked' meant in this context. First, the seats filled up, then the
aisle, so that before departure, on time, the carriage approved ( by
Government stamped brass plate directly above my head), for 64 passengers, held 105. Was this a clever strategy by Perumka, the State Railway company, to increase revenues, I mused, or was it indicative of some more fundamental reality?

I imagined the executive class, closed for bookings at any price, as
the habitat of the elite, whether the 'New Order' elite of the past or
the 'Reformation' elite of nowadays, they were safe and sound from the
harsh realities in the rest of the train (and from the realities of life,
in my analogy). Nothing would disturb the peace and calm of their
journey to the capital city.

My temporary habitat, business class, needed some more thought for the
analogy, but the comparison eventually became clear - this was the
middle class. In this carriage were well dressed, smart individuals, some
of them families, who were either the natural middle class, or, perhaps,
previously from the elite but knocked down a class or two by the
economic crisis.

At any rate, they, perhaps just as in their housing complexes and as in
life now in the new Indonesia, could expect no separation from the
masses, and were, so to speak, destined to be always on the front line
scrabbling to get a hold. Having paid for their seats they were not, it
turns out, able to gain any access to, for example, the toilets. - no
small point on a nine hour journey.

This become clear half an hour out of Semarang, as by this time, those
standing in the aisle had spread newspapers on the floor and lay down,
hoping to sleep. This resulted in a total and complete blockage of the
whole of the carriage - no one could move anywhere,

These sleepers I saw, continuing the analogy, as the under-privileged,
the impoverished and those who would never achieve any respect from
those better off than them. Poor they certainly were, as seen when the
ticket inspector, with an armed soldier to protect him, painstakingly
climbed over the piles of bodies in the aisle, and small amounts of money
changed hands in beautifully orchestrated sleight of hand movements,
thus guaranteeing those, ticket-less and uncomfortable, a safe passage to Jakarta.

It also, of course, guaranteed a loss of revenue for the state, but
who would dare to come down heavy on fare dodgers in such a situation as we have in Indonesia now, where people are killed for a few thousand
rupiah and life, at this level in society, is cheap beyond comprehension.

These are the masses, some of them poor from birth, some of them
'nouveau-poor' from losing their jobs, who witness the astronomical sums of money being pilfered from the nation by the corrupt. These are the ones who know, from long experience, that the power elite and the
nouveau-riche will always look on them as disposable and as having no capacity for feelings and no need for respect.

This is the crux - this is the divisive pain of Indonesian society now,
made more excruciatingly hurtful by the drastic effects of the crisis
on purchasing power.

At the same time, unless President Megawati and her cabinet come to
grips with these chasms dividing the 'haves' from the 'have-nots',
nature's laws will take their course and, as oil does not mix with water, the resulting turmoil will end in bloodshed and confrontation.

The poor and impoverished do not want their Government to prevaricate
like "NATO", which the Indonesians have always translated as ' no
action, all talk' - they want, and need, the opposite - meaningful policies
which will address the socio-economic issues.

These burning truths, if ignored, have the potential to bring the whole
country down in a violent redistribution of wealth, a la Russian
Revolution.

Not for the first time this writer offers prayers for Indonesia -
current levels of poverty and desperation are a wake up call for the rich
and those with a comfortable living. Give the beggars your small change
instead of excusing yourselves by saying that even the beggars with no
arms are part of a 'Mafia'. For those of you in housing complexes and
ghettoes of comfort, spare a thought for the poor and needy in the
surrounding perimeters - make an effort to collect money or donate food, on a regular basis, so that these poor neighbors can learn to respect you
and not hate you and envy you.

Come to your senses - the issues are those of survival - your survival
depends very much on the survival of the millions of your brothers and
sisters who have lost hope. These same poor and dispossed and sobbed as they were no longer able to afford to send their children to school, or
to pay for medicine if they are ill

Turn the clock back - put new life into your traditional Javanese
concepts of 'gotong royong' (mutual co-operation). Then, and only then, can you hope for a future for your own selves.

Bill Guerin*
The Jakarta Eye
www.jakartaeye.com

Bill files weekly as the Indonesian Correspondent for the Asia Times Online, www.atimes.com - rotating between politics and the economy - and has for the last two years been the Editor of both the Mandiri English Language News Center and the online Indonesian Observer - www.indonesian-observer.com (closed down on 2 April 2002). He is also an accredited journalist with www.correspondent.com and has filed copy for the BBC in London.

Back to top

Last updated 4/20/02